


i had a flashback of something that never existed

by nami64



Category: Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Multi, Threesome, and SMUT, but there will be tears, lol what plot, okay this fic is a lot of many feels and i don't know how to tag it, yes... a very pecular one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nami64/pseuds/nami64
Summary: you know in season 2, when Noah discovers the last pages of Claudia's notebook, and then he goes to see young Elisabeth one last time and goes to meet his daughter, before confronting Adam... so *WHAT IF*, before doing that, he goes further in the future? maybe in 2032 (i don't know how tho, but i completely take responsibility for this plot-hole lol) and he meets with Elli and a younger-himself which are in a relationship since four years ?
Relationships: Elisabeth Doppler/Noah | Hanno Tauber
Comments: 20
Kudos: 61





	i had a flashback of something that never existed

**Author's Note:**

> 2032 so Elisabeth is 22, Noah is 29, and the 'older' one is... in his mid-fourties i guess
> 
> and i'm french, so in advance, sorry for my english

-

2032, post-apocalypse world

* * *

A déjà-vu.

Elisabeth had been ten the first time she had met him under an heavy rain. Now, it was like if the ghost had decided to reappear in front of her again. And by his demeanor, it wouldn't be surprising if this Noah was a walking corpse.

Because he was not _her_ Noah. This one, dressed like a priest, was older, years of experience on his face, and looked incommensurable exhausted, like if he had seen and done more than anyone. But his eyes- his eyes were the same eyes Elisabeth had seen a few minutes ago when leaving their cabin to check the traps. Blue. Icy. But gentle and kind when looking at her.

And she understood. He travelled from the future. Or the past.

_Elisabeth._

She could read her name on his lips but not the expression on his face. Maybe she was a ghost for him as well?

_Elisabeth._

He repeated the name again and walked forward, stretching forth a trembling hand. The next few seconds passed in a blur, just like the many questions going through Elisabeth's head, and the more he was getting closer, the more her heart broke. Something terrible happened, and she was frightened, not sure of wanting to know the reasons of his watery eyes, of her absence by his side, of the trembling lips when he stood finally a few inches from her. She didn't step back. How could she, when Noah -no matter his age, his world, his motivation- looked so desperate.

Very slowly, Elisabeth brought a hand to rest on his cheek and he leaned into it, craving her touch. He shut his eyes and she pulled him in close, putting his forehead against hers.

-

_Her_ Noah was in their cabin made of bits and pieces, getting the fire going again when she entered, and he instantly stood up, a fire-iron in hands when he saw a shadow following her.

He froze, his eyes widening almost comically.

_Him._

The apparition sent the younger man back into the past, in Erna’s tavern, more than 10 years from now (or a century, depending of the point of view). A curious feeling started to build in the pit of his stomach.

The two men observed one another, pondering the next move.

 _I know our social skills are a bit rusty, but this is N-O-T how we welcome a guest,_ Eisabeth signed to her Noah before moving to stand by his side. She linked her fingers with his and looked at the other man with genuine kindness. _You can stay here. After all, it is technically your place as well._

The older Noah nodded once, his lips curling up only the slightest bit. 

Still, his younger self observed him without a reaction -for such a long time Elisabeth thought he was never going to reply, or worse, was going to chase the ‘intruder’ out. Green eyes set upon him with disapproval, he gave up.

“Of course,” the words sounded fake. "Make yourself at home.”

-

The three of them sat by the wood-burner, drinking bad homemade alcohol. Elisabeth and Noah shared a chair built out of an old mattress, while the older Noah sat on a stool, his eyes traveling between the cup in his hands, the fire, and the couple.

After a few questions that their guest eluded with talent, silence reigned. Outside was the dull sound of the rain, clashing against the roof of corrugated iron, and, when the noise ceased, the two Noahs looked up at the ceiling in perfect sync. Elisabeth smiled at herself at the sight.

A sudden shiver of cold ran through her back and both men’s attention instantly focused on her. The younger one pulled her against him, one arm tightening around her shoulder to warm away the cold as their sides aligned. Elisabeth looked up at him with affection, took another sip of liquor and then turned to face the other one.

 _Not very tasty but it helps to keep you warm. On the other hand, I have nothing to compare it to,_ she signed to their guest, and her smile slightly dimmed down. _But... I guess you already know that._

The older man nodded, his eyes softening.

“Yes,” his voice and hands answered, “I know that.”

Elisabeth grinned and drank once more, leaning back into her lover's hold.

 _We met before. I mean...,_ she meant that rainy day in the forest. _Why the priest outfit?_

Again, the slightest curl appeared on his lips at Elisabeth’s inquisitiveness.

 _It helps to earn the trust of people,_ he justified easily, a certain distance in his explanation. _Most people claim they don’t believe in God, but they do show respect to a man of God. Paradox._

Then, his right hand moved up to his roman collar and his fingers started to remove the constraint. The white band gone, he undid the first button of his shirt and drank again, his eyes on Elisabeth over the rim of his can. 

She hold the gaze -this familiar and comforting icy blue gaze- and tilted her head.

A heavy silence fell upon them. There would be no more answers from him.

-

Anyone would be jealous -or at least defensive- over the way their guest looked at Elisabeth. But here the thing: this other man and him were one.

Noah observed how his older-self couldn't avert his eyes from her, like a drowning man looking at dry land. With an abyssal desire, starved of touch, and undying love. He recalled a few moments of jealousy, the resentment he had felt years ago -when Elisabeth and Jonas had shared a loud laugh over a 21th century detail Noah couldn't grasp ; or when Jonas had offered her a hand after a little slip in the mud, when _he_ was the one supposed to take care of her ; or when she had confessed that she'd had a boyfriend before him... The corruption of jealousy was known. And, despite the evident thirst in this older man _(this older him),_ he notably felt not a fragment of it. On the contrary. 

A part of him took pride in this idea -the idea that after decades, Elisabeth was still his compass.

The soft frame pressed against his side elbowed him, and Elidabeth's eyes flicked down on her empty mettalic glass to ask for more. Noah grabbed the jar on the ground, already light, and refilled their three cups. 

-

After two hours around the fireplace drinking their awful booze, the already non-existent conversation was dying, as well as their senses. Elisabeth was still comfortably settled against her Noah, and he was running his fingers through her hair, out of habit.

They didn't mind their special guest at all, who remained silent and kept observing the couple, nostalgia and yearning on his features. Eventually, he put down his glass and focused on the twenty-two years old woman. She felt his stare on her (as she always did) and turns her eyes to meet his.

 _Can I kiss you?_ he signed.

During a fraction of second, she almost glimpsed the hesitant boy she had kissed for the first time five years ago, and a soft laugh escaped her lips. Her head was light with liquor and, after a last gulp that emptied her cup, Elisabeth cocked her head to look up at her lover with a silent question. Of course she could do many things without his approval -going hunting alone at night, disappearing during hours to scavenge in risky places, walking under the rain without a hood despite his many looks of disapproval. But, here and now, there was a kiss at stake.

 _You know it's not cheating if it's you,_ Elisabeth signed with a smirk, her ears red.

Both men looked at each other over her blond's head, and there was a silent conversation, a mutual understanding. Unfailing care in the eyes of the younger man, hopeless need in the eyes of the older one. Love in both.

Young Noah nodded at the request.

In one slow movement, Elisabeth left her Noah's warmth and straightened up to shift closer of his older version. There was flush on his cheeks and a veil before his dark eyes, partly due to the alcohol. His gaze lingered for long seconds on her chapped lips, giving Elisabeth chance to back off, and he delighted on the fact that she didn't do it. He leant in slowly, pressed his lips to hers, and it was like breathing fresh air again after years under water.

To Elisabeth' surprise, the kiss tasted the same as it always did: a mix of smoky aftertaste of alcohol and dried meat, with sweat and the peculiar manly musk he always carried. She closed her eyes and couldn't tell the difference.

It was Noah.

The kiss gradually heated up as lips, teeth and tongues got involved, and he laced one of his hands into unwhashed blonde hair and wrapped the other around her neck. She followed suit without hesitation.

In peripheral, between sips of bad liquor, the younger man observed them, fascinated and terrified by the sight. Fascinated, because he was able to witness Elisabeth's reactions in their entirety without being part of the performance, to see how her body molded perfectly against his despite it being a different version.

And terrified, because the desesperation in the kisses of his older self translated need and pain and absence and desire. _When was the last time he saw his Elisabeth? What changed him? What changed me?_ The same unanswered questions he had asked himself before his first time travel.

Elisabeth softly moaned between kisses, and the younger man recognized the familiar sound, the familiar call. She wanted more.

-

From his chair by the fireplace, the older Noah tried to avert his eyes but they never left them.

The young couple stumbled on their makeshift mattress, Elisabeth's back pushed into the cushion by the weight of her lover's body on top of her. Tee-shirts and pants were still on, hands disappearing underneath as fingers found their way to warm skin.

This night had always remained a dissonance in Noah's memory, convinced of it non-existence -like a fairytale, or a dream, or the result of too much alcohol combined with exhaustation and hormones. His consciousness had locked the memory of it inside a chest at the back of his mind to preserve his sanity.

But now, every detail of the coming hours sprang into abrupt definition.

Elisabeth wrapped her legs around her Noah's waist as he trailed feather-light kisses up her neck and jaw and, she must have sensed his older version looking at them _(at her)._ Her eyes found his.

Without a second thought, she reached her hand out to invite him to join them _(join her)._

Above the young woman, Noah glanced over his shoulder. Once more, the same mutual understanding bonded the two men, a mutual need of her that none of them could or wanted to resist. A prudent nod, and the younger man pressed back his tongue on Elisabeth's neck. The older one stood up from his spot by the fire and took the hand offered to him.

-

Being the center of every attention, Elisabeth was the first one fully naked. Her Noah pressed his chest behind her, one of his arms wrapped around her waist, and she felt him murmuring something against the nape of her neck, before dropping a wet kiss.

Thery were both facing the older version of him, the three of them on their knees on the mattress.

He was Noah. A different one, an older one. But still, it was him. The hunger in his eyes as they raked all over her naked form, the lips slightly parted, the rise and fall of his chest... same reactions than the boy she loved. _It was him._

The two men exchanged a glance which she didn't grasp every implication, and the older one moved closer to kiss her. She greeted him in full. From behind, the younger Noah’s hands clenched around her, his still covered hips grinding against hers, pressing with sensuality while his tongue drew intricate figures on her shoulder.

Elisabeth shut her eyes at the sensation, and gasped. Two pairs of hands on her, two pairs of lips, the roughness of their calloused fingers against her skin, their good-natured greediness, but the same man –it all left her breathless.

Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and she bit her bottom lip in bliss.

–

Elisabeth was leaning back on her Noah, sat, her back against his sweaty chest for support, while the older version of him had his head between her legs.

A steady stream of undefined sounds was escaping her throat at every move of his tongue, only ceasing when the younger man took her lips above her shoulder, swallowing her moans, as his hands went up to cup her breast, their peaks hard under his thumbs.

At the needy (and enthralling) noise Elisabeth made, Noah decided to focus on his older-self's work, to observe his ministrations in awe and interest –awe, for the effects it clearly had on Elisabeth's body, and interest for later uses: his tongue was running along her most secretive place, lapping like a thirsty cat, and swirling around that little electric bundle of nerves the young man had already became familiar with.

In three years of intimate relationship, Noah had never done such thing to her -or even never heard about this. Was it a 21st century thing? How was it named? Whatever it was, he decided he would have to do it from now, because Elisabeth was panting, sharp, hard little breaths against his neck that went straight to his cock.

And when his older-self pushed two fingers inside of her, her head rolled back on his younger-self shoulder, limbs trembling.

-

It was just a dance for two this time -at the beginning.

Elisabeth took her time in riding her Noah, face damp and flushed. Her movements were wide, sweeping, and her hands balled into his shoulders for support as she hovered over him, a cascade of blonde hair isolating them from the rest of the world. They stuttered. He thrusted up, made her groan, and eased her downwards. Mouthes inches apart, the young man tried to kiss her but she decided to deprive him of it.

With a devilish smile, Elisabeth leaned back, bracing her hands on his knees, and rolled her hips. _An amazon riding a submissive stalion._ Eyes shut, she took stock of her pleasure when his large hands gripped her waist tight, possessively, hungrily, his hips snapping up to meet each shift of hers.

But other hands joined those already holding her.

 _No._ No other hands. The same hands. And the same adoration when they touched her.

The amazon opened her eyes, glancing over her sweaty shoulder, to meet familiar icy ones.

“You're so beautiful,” her _older_ lover murmured without sigining against her shoulder blade. One of his hands resting on her low back to guide her back-and-forth movements, the other one slid down her stomach, towards the area between her legs. His thumb brushed against her sensitive nub and Elisabeth gasped for air.

“So beautiful...” the younger man echoed in the face of such sight, as his lenght slipped easily into her. He needed her more. Closer. He sat up and thrusts deep to drag out another moan. Their foreheads pressed together and both their bodies rocked in perfect harmony, wrapped around each other like vines. Her tongue plunged into his mouth for a deep kiss.

Elisabeth's right hand curled into his dirty blonde hair, while her left one searched behind for the other man. A hot breath caressed the back of her neck and she was now trapped between them, enveloped only by Noah's warmth, Noah’s skin, Noah’s fervor... Suffocating exquisitely, Elisabeth broke the kiss to pant, as each of her two lovers lavished attention on a side of her neck.

Moans filled the small cabin.

-

The feel and scent of them _-of him-_ overwhelmed her every sense.

The older Noah was on top of her, his hands framing her face like she was a treasure he had lost and only just found again. Each of his thrusts were slow, deliberate languid circles, his lenght within the heat of Elisabeth’s body. And as the pressure mounted, her legs lifted to clamp safely around him.

It was sweet, gentle, less passionate than with his younger self. The reason being this time, _her_ Noah, was not part of the picture. On his own initiative, he stepped back.

Not out of pure altruism -he was doing it for himself after all. The young man had caught his older-self’s reactions when Elisabeth had come the two previous times. Eyes fixated on her. Dark pupils blown wide. Breathing deep and steady through his nose. Hard. The gnawing need to connect with her skin, to bury himself deep into her, to feel her constricting around him... The young man had lived with such hunger enough to recognize it on his own face.

But he perceived something else, more disconcerting and alarming. A void. A culpability. An agony Elisabeth was the only one able to appease (or able to cause).

So the young man withdrew to let the old one find peace in her arms for an instant, and sat on the mattress, his hand sometimes passing on Elisabeth’ sweaty forehead or temples to push back her sticking hair.

Her eyes were shut, and Elisabeth savoured the familiar safety and tenderness of the body above her. The pleasure growing inside of her started to burn and a litany of moans fell from her lips, until salty dampness run on them.

She opened her eyes to look up.

The older Noah was crying. _Noah was crying._

Without a second thought, Elisabeth softly grabbed the man’s face, bringing her lips to the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and kissed his tears away. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathed her in, and his desperate embrace around her body became stronger -as well as each of his thrusts.

“Elisabeth...” his voice breathed, something deep-down and dried-blood dark in it, something that sticked and caught. 

Then, a split second of weakness.

"I miss you...” he muttered against her skin, his words unheard by the reason of their formulation. “You have no idea how much I miss you."

This brief moment of weakness suspended time, words floating in the cabin despite their weight. They eventually sank into young Noah, feeding a dormant fear he had imagined gone, and his face twisted in pure bewilderment -and despair.

He missed her.

_No._

Air struggled to leave his lungs, and he could feel his brain short-circuited at the implications. _Where is she? What happened? Did she leave him? Did he leave her? No! I could never-_ This prospect had crossed his mind before, particularly when recalling his first confrontation with his older-self. The prospect that, maybe one day, Elisabeth would get tired of him, would reject him, to run free like the wild fox she was.

And yet, it wouldn’t change a thing -he would still look after her, even from afar -he would still be with her, even in darkness and solitude. Elisabeth remained his compass and nothing on earth could pull them apart.

So, if he missed her, if he was no more with her...

_No!_

By the time he’d regained the ability to use his senses, Elisabeth was reaching a hand out to him, so he could touch her -so he could anchor himself to her.

He bent and brought her hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist, feeling the quick pulse under his mouth.

She watched her Noah through foggy eyes with a gentle smile, before closing them firmly, another wave of pleasure about to hit. Her nails digged into tattooed flesh.

–

The air in the small cabin carried the perfume of badly distilled alcohol and sex, the cold outside forgotten within these four walls.

Their naked bodies were crushed, satisfied, trying to find back their normal state, and Elisabeth’s one had been the first to give up. She quickly fell asleep between the two men. Her head rested on _her_ Noah’s chest, ear pressed right over his heart, one of her arms wrapped around his waist... her subconscious clearly stating its preference.

On the other part of the bed, the older Noah laid on his side, tucking an arm under his head to observe them - _her_ -him - _himself_ -and it was evident. Evident that the scene in front of him was the only right thing. No matter the twisted consequences, timelines or connections, Elisabeth was the only right and good thing that ever happened to him.

His gaze left the soft curves of her bare hips, and shifted to met the one of his other-self, vehemently staring at him.

“You don't want to know,” he answered before the question.

"What happened?" the younger man asked anyway, the inquiry heavy for its unspoken extensions _-to the plan? -to you?,_ and above all _-to her?_

The more experienced man rolled on his back. No answer could be given, both versions of him aware of the rules, so he shut his eyes, silence all around, until the white noise of rain pounded again against the roof.

"I failed her." The words came out reluctantly in a breath, like a sin confessed to be expiated. "I failed both of them."

_Them?_

The plural forced the younger Noah to make his own deduction: "Elisabeth and Adam?"

A glimmer of loathing passed the face of the ‘guest’, jaw clenched, eyes wide open on the ceiling like if it held all the secrets of the universe. Such reaction only increased the doubt in his younger version, and his grip froze firmer around Elisabeth’s middle. 

A content sigh escaped her and the sound drew the other man's attention. Elbows sinking into the fatigued mattress, he leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, lips lighter than the flap of butterfly's wings. His mouth ghosted over the smooth expanse of her skin to inhale the scent of her. _One last time._

In a catlike movement, he sat on the edge of the bed and swung his legs off. He walked around the small place, picked up his pants and slid them back on -then his black shirt -his suspenders -his jacket -in less than 30 seconds he was all dressed and ready to go.

Heading to the door, he ran his fingers through his hair to put it in some semblance of order, and now at the doorstep, his icy blue eyes passed through the cabin until they fell on the couple. On Elisabeth. She had her back to him, golden strands rolling and flowing all down it as she slept on her Noah’s chest.

The younger man didn’t avert his gaze from their ‘guest’, like a hawk ready to swoop down on its prey if necessary -of course he had noticed the gun hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket. His older-self was on mission, but there was something else behind the weary eyes. Something he had already seen _once._

“You’ve lost faith,” he breathed cautiously.

A wall crumbled inside the older man at these words -famliar and loathed words, remnants of _that_ day still clunged to his mind like tendrils. There was no attempt to negate the accusation. Not a word. Not a move. Only his fingers’ grip at the door handle tightening. He blinked a few times and looked over to where his _heart_ rested.

"Take care of her."

And the man disappeared like he'd never been there at all, shutting the door behind him. Maybe he hadn't.

_Take care of her._

The young man’s mind was racing; trying to come up with different ways to avoid _that_ presage, to avoid what he would become -even if he didn’t know the how or the when. Noah’s thoughts started to get more incoherent, and they took him into a well-known maze of guilt, bloody schemes and dark secrets. But with a promised bright future at its end -for Elisabeth, for him, for his family... There couldn’t be another way.

He clung to this hope for his own sanity, and his psyche decided to bury the vision of an older self that contradicted all the beliefs that had built him.

Without even thinking, Noah’s arms encircled Elisabeth’s waist, and he drew her closer. Heat seemed to radiate from the points where their bodies touched, and he leaned into it, burying his face in her hair. He carefully arranged the sheets around them so they'd cover their still sweaty bodies.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

And in the morning, the last hours would be just a fairytale, or a dream, or the result of too much alcohol combined with exhaustation and hormones, both convinced of their non-existence.

Because it _had_ to.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> just... i had this idea in the middle of the night and i had to write about it.
> 
> THIS IS WHAT ELISABETH DESERVES <3
> 
> (please tell me what you think about it -first time i write this 'kind' of smut lol)
> 
> tumblr post: https://harritudur.tumblr.com/post/628458883942432768


End file.
